The weekend was a mind-nubming couple of days filled with the evils of technology and coffee cups bought on a bribe. It also contained an ending to one book, and a beginning of another and your usual mix of tears, frustration, tiredness and breathlessness that comes after and sometimes in between the evils of technology, cups of coffee and books in general. Flash forward to today, Monday. I'm at the office (arriving a bit late thanks to the also evil train) and I must read emails that pertain to everything about getting through some more evils of technology but nothing about books and coffee. (Though perhaps if you read between the lines of tasks you will eventually find coffee and books somewhere there, along with inkstains and frustrations.) It is in such a state I find myself browsing through a favorite author's funny and very wittily written biography and journal. Needless to say, the words (in whatever form they may be) stir up those little atoms that were "awakened", to say the least, also over the weekend (they were more likely prodded and poked and abused to) come out of hiding. They were hidden in my brain and consicence somewhere under parental instruction, godly advice and writing class lessons. They were those atoms--those parts of me--that knew wit and contained it because they also knew what to do with the wit but were probably too lazy or "busy" to do what they must.
But since you are not those atoms, who undoubtedly understand what I am talking about, I will explain in normal story-telling speak what I am talking about, because what else is a blog for, right? So here's what happened over my weekend:
Saturday was the day before the long awaited Youth Sunday. Needless to say, forget about everything else happening in the world, I had to get the video done in prepartaion for the Kabataan Mismo, Youth Sunday. We were already cramming as it was (or at least I was), but I also had to meet a friend to give her back the Seattle's Best Sticker card she lent me to help her fill it up, since Seattle's Best is rare over the metro but I do have the fortune of working in a building that has it and near a mall that has a better branch as well. So runniing late and rushing to the editing (fortunately half my commute was answered for by my oh-so gallant friend), I amde my arrival at the church center. While it is fun to poke around a new computer it is equally frustrating. It's like moving to a new house that is, sure, nice and clean, but then you don't know where the light switches are and what's the use of a new house if it is left in the dark?
So. Back to the video editing. Let's sum it up and flash forward. After an ardourous day on Adobe Premier CS4 Pro (yes, we are now that high tech baby), I click the button that shall seal the videos fate (and that of mine and my OC-ness since I can't change it anymore) and it...has to close because of some blah blah whatever problem. I'm cool with that coz I saved it anyway right? (Yes I have learned. A lot. Over and over) But then the program won't open again. Liek, ever, no matter what I do. It's near 11pm and I am too tired to be angry, sad or frustrated. SO I call it quits knowing in the morning it'll hit me. And come Sunday it does. I try not to let it get to me. God is still sovereign. And hope does come in the form of IT people (thanks Moncie and Ruthie). So while Youth Sunday is going on out there, hopefully stirring up some other atoms in other people, we sit in the editing room trying to make it to the end. To sum it up, Uncle Jun comes to our aid. We figure a way out. Export. Burn CD. And play.
I missed a few details (as usual) and my eye does that little twitching thing because I'm holding it all in. We end on a note from my brother (who I did not coherce to saying what he said. I'm just saying). And fade to black. Clap. Breathe. A long fresh breath.
Several hours later, past the picture taking, baby pinching, lunch eating and free coffee with a book (exchanged for a long nap which I had late afternoon instead), we flash forward (again) to devotionals. Wherein my dad proceeds to tell us of doing what we did and continue to do for the YF ministry as something with a heart for service. I'm kind of sad at this point that I only half heard the preaching, but I have more than a few lessons learned (which involve trusting God and not cramming/losing it when technology fails), so I guess it was still a fruitful day. Anyway I get my dad's point and will certainly never cram like that again. It is easy to overlook a lot of things and become a Martha in prepping for a big event like that.
But just to connect this stream of consciousness (or rambling) to its original thought, it is also worth mentioning one small discipline that came up in our family devotionals at the end of the day. It was something I'd actually been thinking a lot about lately. Especiallly since being reasigned monthly tasks wherein I must come up with 20 or so articles a month. This is the small discipline of writer, Arthur Miller. (Short Wikipedia moment: Arthur Asher Miller was an American playwright and essayist. He was a prominent figure in American theatre, writing dramas that include awards-winning plays such as All My Sons, Death of a Salesman, and The Crucible.
Miller was often in the public eye, particularly during the late 1940s, 1950s and early 1960s, a period during which he testified before the House Un-American Activities Committee, received the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, and was married to Marilyn Monroe.)
So. The small discipline or "small hard thing", to borrow the words of the Harris brothers, he did everyday, was to type the word "the" and from that come up with one paragraph. I imagine the excercise as the writing part of one's brain doing a little sit-up, push-up or what have you. Papa makes a point about little disciplines and hearts of service and that's when I decide, I can't come up with 20 articles a month without a little excercise. And so this begins my first entry in an anthology of "the" entries. Let's hope it works. As for Monday blues and the evils of technology, well this writng freeflow does nip Monday blues in the butt but just a bit. Perhaps I shall recount more of that, along with the evils of technology, in another entry. So here's to the anthology of "The's"! I certainly hope it gets me somewhere even for a while.
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